Threads of Time
by The Once Caged Bird
Summary: In a fight she wasn't even supposed to be involved in, Natasha gets teleported far back in time, where - by pure chance - she meets some familiar faces. As she attempts to fit into a culture she doesn't know, with the help of people she thought she knew fairly well, her only hope to get home lies in the hands of a much younger, far more devious, god of mischief.
1. Prologue

**A/N: So guys... this is the sorta!sequel I was talking about. It's AU to the comics and Norse myth, but then, so is the movie to an extent. So this is post-movie verse and post Web of Lies. You don't have to read WoL first (obviously, since it's not finished), but you do have to know it's set a couple months after those events and Loki is currently somewhat on the good guys team. This will be a mash-up of Norse myth, the comic book universe, and the movie. Enjoy!**

Threads of Time

The TV was on in the background as Natasha packed her bags. A recent assignment had her traveling to Bolivia within the next twenty-two hours, leaving her time to pack at a leisurely pace, a luxury she couldn't often afford.

Crossing the room to grab a pair of tennis shoes, she passed a mirror and once again took note of her new appearance. Wavy honey-blonde hair had replaced her signature auburn curls, making the now famous Black Widow nearly unrecognizable. Briefly, she tossed her head, admiring the new look. A few turns in the tanning bed had given her skin a golden cast, making her eyes look bluer. Overall, the effect was a Summer-ish appearance she was sure the boys would make comments about. Too bad they wouldn't get to see it until she got back.

Snagging her shoes by the laces, she tossed them into her suitcase with easy precision, landing them between her blow dryer and strappy stilettos. Then she picked up her mission packet, having completed her preliminary packing for the moment.

Folding gracefully into the plush recliner in front of the TV, she picked up her wine off the coaster to her left and flipped to the second page of the report detailing her assignment. Humming contentedly, she read over the seemingly unending list of sightings, underhanded dealings, and black market contacts of her target. It looked like this mission would be fairly easy. Absently, she glanced up at the TV and caught sight of a flashing Breaking News headline.

_AVENGERS TAKE ON NEW ENEMY IN NEW YORK CITY_

She blinked for a moment, noting their location, the shaky footage, and how her friends were faring. As often as they were called in, it was simply not surprising anymore to see them on the news.

What _was _surprising was that they were only a few blocks from her apartment and they hadn't called her in for backup. It meant either Fury had told them of her upcoming mission, or this was not the type of enemy that she could fight. Watching the footage now, she was banking on the latter.

The being – a man she supposed – had dark blue skin and an odd purple and green outfit. He seemed to be able to shoot some sort of particle beams from his hands. He also sported a rather large gun. She'd have to take a look at that after the boys beat him. And they did seem to be winning.

Between Tony's missiles, Clint's exploding arrows, and Hulk's smashing, she was surprised he wasn't already goo on the pavem- oh. He had a force field. Well. That changed things. And it explained why she and Cap hadn't been called. Their skills weren't exactly suited for lethal energy bolts and magical defense. Thor and Loki were off planet currently, which was a shame. Their help would have this guy in the ground in less than a minute.

Oh and look, he could fly as well. Granted, he was flying because of a particularly violent punch from the Hulk. But wait… that was _her _building he was hurtling towards- _SHIT._

Before the wall of her living room even shattered, Natasha had leaped the counter into her kitchen and had rolled into a crouch, the gun already out of the pouch at her hip and in her hand, aiming at the intruder sprawled in the debris of what was once her chair. A small part of her mourned her super comfortable recliner while the rest of her calculated the risks of threatening the hostile versus waiting for the cavalry to arrive.

But the man was moving now, rising stiffly from his crater and palming something on his wrist. She heard him muttering about this not being the right time and returning with more weapons to "conquer these backwards people." Then he pointed his hand at the ground and a rather large _machine_ began forming itself in the middle of her living room.

Unsure what it was, and unable to allow a potential weapon to be used when she could stop it, Natasha squeezed the trigger, bullet aimed for the man's back, and moved immediately.

Which was the right move, as the man, completely unharmed, swung around, energy beam arcing to land on her kitchen counter, which _vanished _right before her eyes. Heart pounding, the spy instantly knew this was beyond her and bolted for the door, intent on alerting the boys.

She would have made it too, if her opponent were an average man. But he was standing before her, dust swirling about him from his speed, and his blue face cracked a smile.

"A spirited one, eh? I think you'll make an excellent hosta-" his speech was cut off with a groan of pain as the assassin dropped to the ground and lashed out with a kick to his left knee. He collapsed and then she was jumping over his prone form and wrenching her door open. She felt the atmosphere shift around her, and risked a quick glance over her shoulder. So she saw the bright flash of light from the intruder's wrist before the air whooshed around and her stomach dropped.

Then she was falling, and when she hit the ground, it wasn't the carpet of her hallway that she met, but the leaves of a forest floor. Eyes wide, she lurched to her feet and whirled around, taking in the massive trees and the smell of the outdoors. Then she noticed the time. It had been midmorning.

It was close to dusk now.

What had that bastard done?

* * *

Roughly two-hundred miles north of Natasha's location, Loki's mug stilled half-way to his mouth. Slowly, he set the mead back down, the raucous sounds of the tavern fading out as he focused on the energies of Yggdrasil's branches, catching the tail end of a rippling disturbance coming from the south. Interested in what magic could reach him from so far away, Loki stood, excusing himself with a grin from Thor, Sif, and the warrior three's presence. Swiftly, he made his way outside, curiosity piqued as he gathered magic around himself to teleport. Finally, something of interest was happening on this crusade of repetitive warring and drinking. A smirk crossed his face - this was something only he could deal with. If all went well, Thor would be bellowing in the morning for having missed out on whatever mischief Loki would find. His smirk turned into an anticipatory grin.

Then, location pinpointed, Loki made a simple gesture and winked out of sight.

* * *

A/N: And voila! The prologue! Props and virtual cookies to whoever knows who the bad guy was! This will be updated mostly sporadically, since I don't really know where I'm going with it, but I just had to get the idea out of my head before I decided it was too much effort ^,^


	2. Curiouser and Curiouser

**A/N: Hi guys! Sorry it's taken so long. I'm really nervous about this chapter because I still don't know where exactly this story is going, and without direction, it's hard to lay groundwork. I do like this chapter though, and I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter One: Curiouser and Curiouser

Her cell phone wasn't working.

At first, she was relieved to find it still tucked safely in her jean pocket, but had found out after only a few moments that not only was it not picking up any signal, she couldn't even find a satellite to piggyback. That's when she started to worry.

Natasha had been in situations where she was unable to reach help. Backwoods Siberia was notorious for having no satellite reception and plenty of hostility to warrant calling for assistance. She could only hope there were simply no receivers overhead or that her phone was being tetchy. It was better than the alternative possibilities of her location after having been zapped by a strange beam of energy - which she didn't really want to think about but her mind supplied for her anyway.

There had been a time, way back when she had first joined SHIELD, when some idiotic rookie had sent her on a mission with faulty information – a slip-up that had nearly cost her her life. The security had been way higher than what she'd been led to believe, and after barely making it through the power hungry duke's ancient home without being caught, she'd seriously considered quitting SHIELD. After all, she'd been forced to use the old sweep's ladder in the chimney to get to the roof so she could jump down into a nearby oak tree. She'd bruised three ribs when she'd caught hold of the branch, and had nearly broken her right ankle after leaping from the tree. She'd heard the guard dogs baying for release and the shouts of the duke's guards from the house. And she ran.

Only to be done in by a low hanging branch in the orchard she'd inadvertently sprinted into. Unable to see it in the dark, she'd slammed into it face first, her feet flying out from underneath her as the world spun sickeningly. She still hadn't moved when the dogs found her.

It took two weeks for SHIELD to recover her, and by then, the damage had been done. Way more damage than she ever let the psychiatrist see.

She no longer trusted SHIELD with her life. And even after the idiot had been fired and regulations tightened – even after senior agent Coulson became her partner, which _insured _the highest quality of information for her – she still double checked and triple checked everything handed to her, gathering and analyzing her own data to cross reference all assignment info. And over the years, she had become uncannily good at analyzing information of any and all kinds.

Which was why she paid special attention to her surroundings as she contemplated her situation. Nothing escaped her attention as she sifted through the possibilities.

Alien planet? Not something she would have considered a few months ago, but still not terribly likely, since those were most definitely pines, oaks, and ash trees surrounding her.

An illusion? Potentially. Loki had woven some very realistic imagery as a prank not too long ago. She doubted it was Loki himself for various reasons, the foremost being that it was that he hadn't even been on earth when she'd been zapped and the rest being that he was attempting to stay on her good side for the moment. Sending her to some strange forest was definitely a step in the right direction towards her bad side.

However, it wasn't unfeasible that another person possessed the ability. Though this place even _smelled _like a forest, and Loki hadn't quite managed that smell when he'd transformed Clint's room into a forest – complete with a giant nest for a bed. Natasha had found it hilarious, but even she could tell it was an illusion… though perhaps that was what Loki had intended. She never really knew with him. This however... this even had all the sounds of the woods waking for the evening.

That was another thing… the time difference. Somehow, she had lost seven to eight hours. One simply didn't fall and get up and lose that much time in between.

And it was cold. Her simple grey sweat jacket, t-shirt, and jeans were not warm enough to deflect the frigid breezes blowing through the trees. She was thankful she at least had her sheepskin slippers on, as it had been kind of cool in her apartment.

Obviously she'd been in worse weather, but it was only mid-September back in New York. It had only just begun getting _slightly _chilly. This cold though, along with the building clouds she could see through the branches, indicated a snow storm was on its way. And as much tolerance as she had for the cold, she did _not _want to be caught outside, at night, in a foreign environment, in the _snow_. Filing away all other worries away as not imperative for her survival, she started hiking, keeping the barely visible North Star fixed in front of her.

She hadn't been walking long, maybe fifteen minutes, before her razor sharp sixth sense warned her that she was not alone.

Senses ablaze, Natasha kept trudging, careful to keep her gait relaxed, not alerting whoever it was that she was aware of their presence. Under the shadow of her hoodie, her eyes swept the trees around her, watching for the sway of a branch, a flicker of motion, ears straining for the barest hint of sound. Her heart sped up when she realized the sounds of the woods had quieted. The night prowlers had retreated, the owls and bats scattered. The silence was eerie, and still she trekked onwards. The thought hit her that there could be wolves or bears in this forest. So used to being hunted by humans, she had almost dismissed the threats of the wild. Cautiously, she rested her hand on her gun, unsnapping the leather restraint of her holster.

A breeze blew up from behind her, carrying with it a current of energy that she had come to recognize from many fights with Loki as magic. It sparked almost curiously across her skin and danced benignly around her gun as if delighted by the odd weapon. Then there was the slightest brush of consciousness against her thoughts and she whirled, dropping to her knee, gun pointed at the heart of the man standing not ten feet behind her. How he had snuck up on her through the littering of crunchy dead leaves, she didn't know, and didn't care right now.

"Who are you?" She demanded icily, trying to make out his features through the shadows to see his intent. "Show yourself!"

She heard him mutter something under his breath in a foreign, yet somewhat familiar tongue. Then he stepped out from underneath the trees, into the half-light and Natasha felt both relief and irritation course through her system as she relaxed her fighting stance and holstered her gun.

Scowling, she said, "Loki, what the hell are you up to? Where are we?" He gave her a completely bemused look and said something aloud, once again in that foreign language.

Suddenly, Natasha remembered Loki was supposed to be off world. She let her hand creep back to her gun under the pretense of adjusting her jacket as she cursed herself for relaxing her guard at the first sight of a familiar face. She _worked _with a shape shifter for heaven's sake. _Идиот! Idiot!_

"Loki?" she repeated cautiously, eyes narrowed. Now that she looked closer, there was something off about his appearance. How had she not noticed it?

"I am he," the man said pleasantly in mildly accented English, a very Loki-like look of amusement creeping onto his face, even as his eyes showed suspicion. "Though how you came to know of me when you are so obviously not of this world puzzles me. Perhaps we have met on some distant realm?" His tone was pleasant, she noted, but his stance was wary, his own hands hovering by the knives she knew Loki kept hidden at his hip. If this was truly an imitation of Loki, he was very good. And he had magic – that much she knew for sure. And it felt like _strong _magic. To impersonate a god was dangerous… this man would have to be bold to do so. In her experience, bold people acted so because they were either incredibly foolish, or because they had the power to back their brazen behavior. Her instincts were leaning towards the latter. She would have to be cautious.

"You're right, I'm not from around here," Natasha admitted reluctantly. "But your reputation precedes you, Lord Loki." She added the "Lord" bit to see how he'd react. The Loki she knew would swallow the compliment like he received them daily but would preen on the inside. It would appear, by his small, dignified smile, that this Loki was very good indeed, perhaps even legitimate. How, she didn't know – unless he was playing some trick on her. It wouldn't be the first time. Though it didn't explain the change in his appearance. His face looked younger, the worry lines almost non-existent. He also sported a heavy fur cloak and had a sword strapped to his back that she had never seen. He was dressed almost rustically, _barbarically_, which was odd for the ever-clean and sharp dressed Loki that she knew. But there was something more. He was close enough, she could see it, or rather the lack of it…

There was no recognition in his eyes.

This, more than the odd clothing and appearance, caused her to be wary. Especially since the man seemed to have been studying her whilst she was staring at him.

A burning curiosity shined in his eyes as he eyed her jeans and hoodie and he said, "Not from around here would appear to be an understatement. And would I be correct in saying not here of your own volition?" Natasha nodded. As ever, he was very perceptive. "I am curious," he continued, taking a leisurely, predatory step forward, using his intimidating height to try and cow her, "how you came to be here. How a human such as yourself wielded a magic that I felt near a country away. And how you could possibly know me on sight when I have not been to this realm in more than a century and have only just returned a fortnight ago. I would suggest you refrain from falsehoods." Magic crackled warningly around his hands, though his face remained the epitome of good humor. Natasha swallowed hard. There was little denying that this was Loki. His mannerisms, his inflections on his words, the way his right eyebrow rose independently from his left, even his body language – it all pointed straight to the god of mischief that she had come to know so well.

That left one explanation for his apparent youth and his missing memory of her. She even remembered the bastard who'd landed in her living room muttering something about this "not being the right time". It would appear she had landed herself in a situation she had never once entertained in all her time as a spy and her short run as a heroine.

She was in the past. And this Loki had no memory of their truce because he hadn't made it yet. He could kill her here and now, and no one would ever know what had happened to her. Obviously Loki from the future didn't remember this little meeting; otherwise she was certain he would have mentioned it… though… perhaps he hadn't recognized her? She certainly looked different from how she did however many years from now their first meeting was. Though it was better to be cautious, just in case. Perhaps this was a different flow of time altogether, and her presence here would change _this_ future. The possibilities were endless and she suddenly wished for a very strong drink.

Loki cleared his throat, bringing Natasha back from her crushing realization and said mildly, "I know not what realm you hail from, but I assume it is common knowledge that keeping a god waiting is not a wise idea."

"Sorry," Natasha said quickly, hands rising away from her weapon in a placating manner, "I've just realized how far I am from home and that I don't actually know where I am. It's… not the easiest realization to come to terms with." She wasn't lying and she saw that Loki knew it too.

"It is forgiven," Loki said. "A long way from home indeed. What realm speaks this tongue? It is similar to the natives of this country. And who sent you here? Obviously you haven't an ounce of magic yourself, so it must have been someone else. A sorcerer? Mage? Why were you sent here?" Loki paused, seeming to realize that his curiosity had gotten the better of him. He straightened, regaining dignity before he narrowed his eyes at her, noticing the barely visible trembling of her frame and her tightly clenched jaw. Night was falling fast, and so was the temperature.

"It seems my questions must wait if you are to survive long enough to give answers," he said ruefully, before sweeping the cloak off his shoulders and stepping forward to offer it to Natasha. She smiled gratefully and pulled the ridiculously warm dark fur around her body, feeling her shivers cease almost immediately. An enchantment of some kind she guessed. Loki looked down at her and smirked. He seemed unaffected by the cold, even when only wearing light armor and what looked like a tunic and pants. Though he had nice fuzzy boots, which she immediately felt envious of.

"I forget how delicate you mortals are," he said lightly, amusement dancing in his eyes. Natasha knew that look and silently hoped the cloak wouldn't spontaneously turn into a living animal or dissolve into dust as she'd seen him do to one of Tony's favorite t-shirts after the genius had insulted him.

Thankfully, it remained in its inanimate, furry state and Loki proffered an arm, arching an inviting eyebrow. Natasha thanked him and linked their arms at the elbow, wondering privately where this gentlemanly Loki had come from… or rather, where he had gone.

"Shall we take this conversation somewhere more comfortable?" he asked as the first snowflakes began to fall around them. Natasha nodded, not trusting herself to speak as energy gathered around them. Then they disappeared with a flourish and a swish of snow from the physical plain.

* * *

When they reappeared in the courtyard of a tavern only a few villages over from the one Thor and company occupied, Loki had to catch the woman's arm to keep her from staggering. She flashed him a grateful glance and subtly released his arm, reasserting distance between them. Other than her slight stumble, she seemed nonplussed by their method of travel, which indicated she had experienced such magical voyages before… perhaps many times. He felt his interest pique further and he gestured for her to follow him into the tavern, impatient to question her further.

His hand was on the door, prepared to enter, before he remembered her alien language and dress, her unnatural cleanliness, and strange weapon. Quickly he turned and dipped his mouth to her ear to whisper, "Pull the cloak tight and do not speak if you wish to avoid drawing attention to yourself as a foreigner." She nodded and shifted the furs to cover herself more completely before he opened the door and led the way in. For extra caution, he cast a mild glamour around her to make her appear as nothing more than a shadow, seen from the corner of one's eye, but never truly visible unless he allowed it.

The boisterous noise did not lull upon his entrance. It was as he'd hoped – no one in the tavern had encountered him in his short time on Midgard. Certainly they had heard of the Æsir's arrival, but they wouldn't know him on sight. Not like the woman had…

Smiling widely at one of the barmaids, he gestured for drinks and food to be brought as he led the mystery woman to the most secluded and shadowed table in the far corner of the room. It was just as well he'd lent her his cloak, the table was far from the roaring fire where a spit of mutton was roasting merrily. He had abandoned his meal at the last tavern along with Thor, and he had been hungry then. He was near ravenous now.

Taking a seat across from his new companion, he cocked a head at her curiously and commented, "While it seems you know of me, I do not believe I have had the honor of your name." She seemed to waver for a moment.

"Natalia," she offered. He could detect no lie despite her hesitance.

Smiling disarmingly, he said, "Natalia? A beautiful name. A foreign one as well. Tell me Natalia, how came you to be here?" This time the pause was attributed to her gathering her thoughts.

"I was in my home when a being came crashing through the wall," she began, "he hit me with a spell or something and the next thing I knew I was in the middle of that forest without the faintest idea where I was." _All truth_.

"But you know me?" Loki questioned.

"We've met," she said with a hint of wryness in her tone. "Though not under… conventional circumstances. And I looked different at the time."

"I have never heard this language before, so we must not have spoken," Loki noted. Natalia arched her eyebrow in a credible impression of his own skeptical look.

"How are you speaking it then?" She questioned, before eyeing him thoughtfully. "A spell?" Loki nodded, faintly impressed.

"The All-Tongue allows its speaker to be heard and understood as well as to hear and understand all languages and their many variances."

"Useful. So if I were to speak to anyone in this room other than you, they wouldn't understand me?"

"Very astute," Loki said, pleased. It seemed this woman was at least marginally intelligent. As well as lovely. He noted with appreciation how her blue eyes sparkled like the queen's sapphires in the low light of the candles. Now the question was whether she had a sense of humor. He only barely kept the wicked grin off his face. "And an easily remedied malady. May I?" He held out his hand, which glowed faintly with green magic. She gave him a dubious look that truly confirmed she had met him at some point, though he knew not when. Surely he would have remembered such delightfully interesting creature. Then she was nodding her golden head in consent, allowing Loki to ghost his fingers over her lips, his magic pulsing as the spell sunk in and took effect.

"There now, that should do it," he said confidently, smiling to hide his smirk. At just that moment, the barmaid arrived with to large mugs of mead, two steaming bowls of stew, and a large chunk of bread. Natalia, at Loki's encouraging nod, turned to thank the young woman.

"Asfkldhgkd," she said before freezing. The barmaid gave her a look that clearly questioned her sanity before retreating to her other patrons and Natalia turned to Loki with such a mortified expression that he truly had to fight to control his laughter. Instead he frowned in concern and said, "Oh dear." Her eyes grew comically wide in alarm.

"That is not a good sign," Loki commented, reaching forward to brush her face again, maintaining a serious façade as he called a faint green light to his hand.

"Again?" he prompted.

"Ahgklasdfjldak?" She clamped a hand over her mouth. Loki feigned an immensely contrite expression.

"I am so sorry, I am not accustomed to performing magic on mortals. I'm afraid it is permanent, as this is one of the old spells…" Her horror and the accusation in her eyes grew with each word, and he could not contain himself any longer. He threw his head back and laughed as he had not laughed since he tricked Volstagg into shaving off his beard. He had the great pleasure of watching Natalia's expression turn vengeful as she crossed her arms and pursed her lips. It was just the sort of expectant expression Frigga might give him – a cross between exasperation and acceptance, though Natalia's held a hint of promised revenge, an addition that he found very pleasing.

Still grinning broadly, he raised his hands in surrender and said, "I jest, I jest," before he waved his hand and her speech was returned, the All-Tongue gifted to her as a present, of sorts, for bearing with his humor.

"That should do it. And you said my reputation had preceded me? As what, merely a conjurer of cheap tricks?"

She simply glared at him and said, "So now can talk to whomever I want?" Loki nodded and she returned his grin, though it was laced with a worrying amount of false sweetness. Loki had a feeling he would be paying for his prank, though it would likely be when he least expected it. A thrilling diversion from the oh so predictable revenge of Thor and his friends. Getting chased about the palace or tackled in the sparring court certainly lost its excitement after so many repetitions. He found himself looking forward to whatever she came up with.

But first, he should like to get to know her better. Currently she was eyeing her stew, as if trying to determine its ingredients. Loki was about to warn her that she was better off not knowing when she shrugged to herself and took a bite. She chewed thoughtfully for a moment before nodding in approval. Then she glanced up, casting him an inquiring look, gesturing with her wooden scoop for him to ask his questions.

Attempting not to appear overly interested, he sampled the stew himself, only barely managing to mask his grimace. Left on the fire too long, it tasted burnt and curdled; causing him to wonder what kind of meals she had eaten for her continue with such meticulous, steady bites. In a way, she reminded him of the warriors who ate what they could in the field because they didn't know when their next meal would be. The comparison intrigued him.

"From whence do you come, Lady Natalia?" Loki asked finally, having sampled the bread as well and finding it stale. He missed Asgard's fine meals already, though it mattered not, as hungry as he was.

"Originally, I'm from a place called Volgograd," she answered, "Later I moved to America. I've lived and worked there for a while. Now, I don't know. I was hoping you could tell me?"

"We are currently in a place called Danmörk. I have never heard of this Volgograd or America, are they of this realm?"

"Earth? Yes. But they're far away. Though I suppose distance is relative to someone with your skills." It didn't sound as if she was fishing for assistance in returning home. She was merely stating a fact. _It is no effort to traverse a planet, _Loki thought, _she need only ask. Unless she does not wish to return… after all, she said some kind of violence occurred to bring her here._ He let the comment pass in silence.

"You said a man sent you here?" Another male with magic? Certainly not unheard of, though it was unusual. "Do you know how? Or why?" Natalia's expression became unreadable for a moment before she shook her head.

"I have no idea. Like I said, it was some kind of magic," she frowned thoughtfully. "I don't think he meant to do it though. Send me here I mean." Loki nodded absentmindedly and tapped his fingers across the rough-hewn wood of the table, thinking back to the most troubling aspect of their meeting.

"So your coming here was an accident and yet you appeared very close to where I am staying, within mere days of my arrival here… You seem to know me, though I do not know you… forgive me if the coincidence seems too great. I have witnessed far too many guises and trickeries and have… perhaps… _offended_ too many powerful beings to not be suspicious now." He added a genial smile as if negating his underlying accusations and leaned back in his chair, allowing her a moment to collect herself.

In that moment, Natalia studied him – _truly _studied him – her eyes boring into his own as if she could pick apart his soul. It was enough to make him want to shift uncomfortably, though he forced himself to refrain. Very few people had ever been able to make him feel so exposed, and those people were close family and friends – those within his inner circle. And for a wild moment, he dismissed entirely the assumption that this woman was human, because surely only a goddess or some fey creature would be able to enchant him so completely with only her eyes, which he noted had flecks of sparkling sea green around the center. They were utterly beautiful.

Then she blinked slowly and looked down at her hands before her and the spell was broken.

"When I said I knew you," she muttered quietly, "I was not lying. We knew each other in a different time though, so it's not surprising that you don't remember me. A lot has changed since then." Her lovely eyes rose to meet his own once more but this time they had a misty, far away look in them, as if she were seeing the time she spoke of.

"We didn't know each other very long, though," she continued, "But in that short time, I came to trust you." She smiled at him, an odd, gentle smile that bespoke true friendship. "If you'll give me the chance to get to know you again, I'll tell you everything you want to know."

Loki considered. He felt no lie in her words whatsoever, which made her story, or lack thereof, all the more intriguing. She _did _know him at some point. Though by the way she spoke, it was almost as if she knew him long ago, which made no sense. Humans lived less than a century, some less than half a century, so how could a Midgardian have known him from so long ago if she would not have been alive? Then again, it was not unheard of for mortality to be doled out as punishment in Asgard… Or for mortals to be gifted with extraordinarily long life, so… but no, he could not conclude anything until he had her trust. Which was what she was asking for, no doubt. The opportunity to _trust_ him again, as if he had changed exponentially since their last meeting. If this woman was indeed intending to do him harm of some kind… trying to trick him… she was doing a marvelous job of it, for now his curiosity was well and thoroughly kindled.

A mysterious woman who claimed to know him but would not explain how. An ostentatious display of magic with no obvious source. And a challenge to prove himself worthy. Oh yes, Thor would be irate indeed to have missed this encounter. Loki felt a slow smile tugging at his lips.

"Very well, Lady Natalia, you shall have your chance, though I do hope you know the magnitude of what you are asking. And you are asking to stay with me for a time, are you not?"

Natalia arched a questioning eyebrow and nodded slowly, and Loki favored her with a wicked grin before explaining.

"You see, if you are to remain in my company, then I shall have to introduce you to the rest of my party on the morrow," he said jovially, noting the comprehension dawning on her. "So prepare yourself for drunkenness, warring, and a great deal boorishness, for in the morning, we go to rejoin my brother."

* * *

A/N: Some of you might be questioning the cliché-ness of having Natasha land within sensing distance of Loki (or even within the same time window he was on earth), and I had this great argument for latitudes and longitudes, the earth's rotation, and the relative strength of will it would take to bring two people together… but it didn't fit with the story at all. So just know that there _was _an argument and let me write my outrageously improbable story. _It's what fanfiction was made for._

__On another note: Updates are going to slow _**WAY** _down. I'm leaving for Japan this week and will be super busy. I honestly will try to write more on this, I just don't see me having a whole lot of time. Sorry!


End file.
